


Bite my lip and close my eyes

by viewingcutscene



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Awkward Boners, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 22:51:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7550317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viewingcutscene/pseuds/viewingcutscene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill: "jesse/cassidy, one of them gets a boner when they're waiting for their clothes to wash"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite my lip and close my eyes

Cass was prepared to just chuck the clothes out, but Jesse was always the more practical one.

“Look, first off all, clericals are really expensive, and I ain’t exactly rolling in cash these days, am I?” he said, loading up the decrepit washer.  “I’ll grant you the collar’s not much more than a few bucks, but you know they charge over fifty bucks a pop for these stupid black shirts?”

“Highway robbery,” muttered Cassidy. 

“Secondly, the whole thing at the Sundowner was such a shitshow, you think anyone’s going to be investigating it?  Hell no.  Them angels have more than enough on their hands covering up the bodies and interrogating the soccer mom from hell.”  Bloody froth slopped back and forth inside the washer as the cycle got going. “Wash ‘em up, have a shower, and we’re free and clear.”

“Mm. It’s a bit like Pulp Fiction.”

“And I’m Vinny Vega,” said Jesse.  He’d always liked Travolta’s style in that film.  Smooth and hard, like steel ball bearings.  Couldn’t dance worth shit, though.

“S’cool,” said Cass. “I’ll be Samuel L. Jackson.  That’s a _proper_ hard man, y’know?” He nodded and rubbed a hand under one arm. “Whew, that’s really boggy. I’m gonna hit the shower.”

Jesse shook his head.  “Cold only with the washer running.  Beer while we wait?”

“At ten in the morning?” Cass asked, genuine incredulity betraying either his shitfaced Irishman schtick or a Catholic upbringing.  Jesse pulled two Lone Stars out of the fridge, popping the tops off, and passed one to his friend.  They shot the shit about clone people and basked in the shadowed honey-gold sunshine filtered through the kitchen curtains.  It reminded Jesse uncomfortably of post-heist celebrations with Tulip and Carlos, sitting around their most recent acquisitions in the early morning light, passing around a blunt, or a bottle of Jack Daniels. He gave his head a little shake, while Cass prodded himself all over and winced out loud at tender spots left by seraphim knuckles.  Jesse’s gaze drifted down without realizing it.

He stood up, and gave the washer a sudden, violent kick. It ceased the uneven thump from the sneakers banging about inside, with the additional benefit of redirecting the surge of energy from his newly sprung erection to his foot.  It was the fight at the motel, that’s all.  Fights always did that when you were done.  You wanted to laugh, first, then you wanted to fuck.  It had been one hell of a fight.

“That’s some ink you got there, padre.  Where’d you get that back one?” Cass asked.

 _That_ did it.  Nothing kills a boner faster than thinking of god-forsaken Angelville.  “Mean ol’ lady gave it to me.  What about you? You look like a men’s room wall.”  Cassidy’s tattoos were a jumbled mess of names and numbers; the archaeologists who unearthed Pompeii would’ve itched to decipher them all.  Jesse’s personal favourite were the E and the Q on each shoulder.  They reminded him of studying Greek in seminary, and one of his favourite lines from Revelation: “I am the Alpha and the Omega, who is, and was, and is to come, the Almighty.”  It reminded him, he realized suddenly, of how he’d described Genesis to Cassidy.

“I went through a period of low impulse control,” Cass said, with a cocked eyebrow that brought Jesse’s hard-on raging back and then some. 

“Thank God that’s over with,” Jesse muttered into his beer, to cover up his embarrassment.  He turned away slightly, but of course the movement of cloth against his sensitive dick made things worse.  He might as well just slap a neon sign on his chest with an arrow pointing down. Keeping up a light banter with Cass, he managed to nudge the tip of his erection under the waistband of his briefs.  Not great, but better.

Talk turned towards Genesis, and something about Cassidy’s frown made Jesse come sit next to him by the wall.  Weighty theological matters were a sure-fire way to take hold of a runaway libido, and probably one of the only reasons regulations against pre-marital sex in seminary weren’t broken as often as they might be but talking about Genesis had the opposite effect on Jesse.  His blood heated up, chasing itself ‘round and ‘round his body, and his heart beat in his mouth like a caged bird.  The armbar the seraph used before Cass shot her in the head had bruised his throat. He held a swig of beer in his mouth, and let it cool his raw, abused tissues there, while Cassidy’s monologue flowed over him like rainwater.

 “Ye’re supposed to swallow it, y’know that right?”

Jesse choked on his Lone Star, spluttering the warm, hoppy liquid down his bare chest.  “Excuse me?”

“The beer? You weren’t just hopin’ to absorb it through osmosis?”

“The beer, right. Ah. No, just my throat hurts from the choking I took earlier in the motel.  I mean-“ It was impossible to say anything that didn’t sound like a lewd come-on to Jesse’s inflamed ears.  He was determined not to meet Cass’ scrutiny, feeling the amused half-smile that was lingering there, but his eyes fell on his friend’s crotch again, which was so nicely packaged and – fuck.

“I was there, yeah? Saw all the fun the four of you were havin’, couldna wait to join you.”

Jesse tore his agonized gaze away from Cassidy’s lap – was he sporting a semi himself, or was it just natural endowment _? Only one way to find out_ , a silky little voice in the back of his mind told him – and threw back the rest of his beer.  “Well, better hop in the shower before the day gets too far gone,” he said, practically throwing himself towards the bathroom door.

“Cold only with the washer, yeah?” Cass called.  The only answer was the door slamming shut, and the bolt being driven home.

It just remained to be seen if Jesse could finish himself off before the cold water did the trick.


End file.
